


Pretty When You Cry

by TansyPoisoning



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Dacryphilia, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Size Difference, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16606562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TansyPoisoning/pseuds/TansyPoisoning
Summary: Of all the reasons someone could have for kidnapping you, a desire to dry your tears wasn't one you saw coming. [Gender neutral reader for your pleasure]





	Pretty When You Cry

Being held captive wasn’t quite what you thought it would be. You had never given it much thought, of course, but in your mind abductions were the sort of thing that were done to relatives of wealthy people to be bartered for money or, if you were very unlucky, to be sold as slave labor or have your organs harvested. You might not have known what to expect from being held prisoner, but it was certainly not what you got.

You were especially selected by your captor (he had been paying close attention to you for a while, and somehow you hadn’t noticed his massive frame lumbering after you) because of a trait you didn’t even know you had, much less thought would be of interest to someone: apparently, you were a pretty crier.

There was something about the way your cheeks and lips flushed, how the wetness in your eyes made they seem bigger, and how your sniveling after a long weeping session made you look so vulnerable, that had captured your kidnapper’s attention, and, he swore, his heart.

He called himself Reinhardt. A bull of a man, towering over you at seven feet and then some, most of it muscle, and all of him just as proportionally large. Whenever he would walk towards you, you could swear you felt the ground shake.

One would think that someone who was attracted to your tears would be a sadist, a terrifying prospect in any situation made worse by his size, but your captor was much more entertained by your tears when they were beginning to abate.

“I don’t want to make you hurt, my love.” He would tell you, alternating between words and kisses “I’m here to take care of you!” When you inevitably started crying again he would suck in a breath before singing praises to your beauty, only to immediately resume his activities.

‘Small blessings’ a fool might say, but you knew better. After all, for him to be able to comfort you, you’d first have to be in pain.

You counted yourself lucky when Reinhardt would wait for you to find something to cry over or force you to marathon tragic movies while he smoothed your hair and cooed in your ear. Too often he took a proactive role, cornering you against a wall, staring you down until you grew so nervous a few tears would slip against your will, or threatening your loved ones (he knew much more about them than you were comfortable with), and, when all else failed, he wasn’t above using his superior strength, your skin more often than not marred with bruises.

When he forced himself on you he would sometimes hold you closely and move slowly. Other times gentleness would be an after thought.

You tried cooperating, being polite and forcing your lips to smile and your hands to caress him, anything to make him stop, but that could only satisfy him for a so long. Reinhardt always grew bored of not being able to serve as your knight in shining armor, even if he had to play the part of the dragon to do it.

Time and time again you would try appeasing him, hoping that things would be different and he would be glad to have you without needing to hurt you all the time.

Maybe… Maybe this time. He had to be getting tired of this arrangement by now.

“Darling!” The voice you most desired and most dreaded hearing called out as the door of your improvised cell burst open to let your tormentor and hero enter, and you couldn’t contain your weeping. You didn’t know if you cried out of joy or just because your body had grown used to sobbing as a defense mechanism, and you didn’t want to think about it.

“There you are!” He exulted, laughing as if he hadn’t been the one to lock you up, and crouched down to examine your face. It was so dark in the room you could barely make out his features, but the way his lips parted over gleaming white teeth showed you how pleased he was.

Reinhardt picked you up effortlessly, carrying you out of the closet while kissing away your tears. It was smothering, but it was also safe, and you found yourself relaxing in the giant man’s arms.

“I have looked all over for you! For days!” He lied, but he sounded so honest and you wanted his words to be true, so you ignored the pit in your stomach growing deeper by the second. “I missed you so much, my love!”

That you could easily believe.

“I missed you too.” You sighed, clinging to his neck like a lifeline.

Holding you with the strength of a single hand, the Templar moved your face to the side so he could drink in the sight of you, red, trembling, desperate for comfort and so beautiful.

Reinhardt hugged you closer, chest swelling with a slow inhale, before he began the trek to the kitchen, droning on and on about how hungry you must be and what he should fix you for breakfast, while you allowed his words to lull you into a false sense of security.

Sometimes you thought it would be better if he was a sadist – then at least you’d know exactly where you stood with him, and hating him and your condition would be as easy as breathing – but you didn’t want to think about that now.


End file.
